


Meeting Sissy

by MI6



Series: Sissy [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Holmes, Cece's a flirt, F/M, John is in the dark about everything, Sherlock and Mycroft's sister, Sherlock is overprotective, a small bit of fighting, canons might be a smidge out of character, sexy time implied, she's actually smarter than both of them, sissy, the heart wants what the heart wants, the other Holmes sibling is actually a girl, the second most protected woman in London
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MI6/pseuds/MI6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Holmes brothers have a younger sister that no one knows about. In order to protect her from being a possible target, they don't speak, mention, or acknowledge that she exists. She does the same for them, most of the time.</p>
<p>Sherlock has been contacted by Mycroft that their sister hasn't been seen for a week. Sherlock comes to the rescue and John is dragged along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Panic

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little ficlet for a friend of mine. After watching "His Last Vow" and hearing Mycroft hint at the possibility of there being a third Holmes brother, I was entertained the idea of that brother possibly being a sister instead. We decided that she would be the second most protected woman in London, that she could get away with murder, and that Sherlock and Mycroft would literally kill anyone that hurt her and not get in trouble. We also decided to make her 'smarter' than both of them, but they don't realize it because she chose to keep her skills hidden instead of flaunting them about.
> 
> I only claim rights to Cecelia Holmes.
> 
> Enjoy!

Meeting Sissy

John Watson relaxed with a heavy sigh in the back of a black cab after an exhausting shift at the clinic. All he wanted to do was enjoy the quiet ride home before having to deal with the unpredictable mood that he would find his flatmate in. He was lucky for about two blocks before his mobile chimed to notify him that he had a text message. Having a good idea who it was, he heaved a sigh before retrieving phone from his jacket and reading the text.

**_47 Eaton Square. Urgent. Bring your Browning. –SH_ **

Assuming that this was a new and urgent case, John quickly told the cabbie the new address and patted his chest, feeling his gun concealed inside his jacket. He had made a habit of bringing his gun to work to after Sherlock’s increasing requests to meet at crime scenes as soon as his shift had ended, or while he was still working. The fact Sherlock’s usual texts were very prompt made the one he had just received into an unusual one. If Sherlock had wanted John to meet him somewhere, he would have the message timed out to the exact moment that John would have stepped foot outside of the clinc. This time, the text hadn’t come until he was already in the cab and on his way back to Baker Street. Something was up.

And something was up. Something that Sherlock Holmes was bound to get to the bottom of. Something that had the great consulting detective dropping everything to rush from his flat to the other side of London in a controlled panic.

It had all started that afternoon when Sherlock had received a phone call from his favorite big brother. He had just dropped a freshly severed finger into a flask of acid when his phone started to vibrate on the tabletop. He glanced at the screen and his brow furrowed slightly seeing it was his brother. Heaving out an irritated sigh, he snapped off a rubber glove and answered.

“Mycroft, this had better be important. I’m busy,” he snapped while fishing the melting finger out of the flask with a pair of forceps.

“Hello, to you too, brother dearest,” Mycroft purred out in his usual calm tone, but there was a sense of underlying urgency that could have only been detected by Sherlock, “I just thought that you ought to know it the surveillance to Eaton Square has been hacked and has been fed a loop for about a week, and that it’s very quiet on that end.”

 Sherlock had let the finger drop back into the acid and was already heading for door the second ‘Eaton Square’ was mentioned. “I’m on my way over there now,” he assured before hanging up. He quickly tossed on his coat and scarf before rushing down and out onto Baker Street to hail a cab. Long, slender finger drummed impatiently on a jittery leg as crystal blue eyes stared out the cab window. He needed to get there as soon as possible. The cab needed to go faster. Something was happening. Horrible images flashed though his mind and he had to shake it to refocus. If something had happened, or was happening, he would need backup. John. He needed John. He stilled his nervous fingers long enough to send John a text, and spent the rest of the ride reeling in the bits of overactive imagination that had slipped out of his mind palace.

The crime fighting duo had arrived in front of 47 Eaton Square at the same time. John met Sherlock at the pillar framed steps that led up to the door of a flat. “Sherlock, what’s going on? What’s so urgent that I had to bring a gun?” he asked looking up at the building. He did a double take at a window on the second floor, thinking that he had seen a face.

“Woman in her late twenties, lives alone in this building, and hasn’t been heard from for a week,” Sherlock explained as he passed John and walked up to the door, easily taking the three small steps at once.

John frowned slightly and followed after him, managing two steps. “Who is she? President of some company?” he asked as he looked around the posh neighborhood, making sure that no one was watching them.

“Hardly,” Sherlock snorted at John’s question as he produced a key from his coat and unlocked the door. He opened the door and paused as if waiting for something. “Alarm system is disabled,” he said when nothing happened. He pulled out his own gun and slowly entered, holding the weapon in front of him as he glanced around. John followed after him, silently closing the door behind him.

The two of them made their way to the living room, and Sherlock held up his hand to stop John when the sound of a door shutting and footsteps filled the silence of the flat. They waited with baited breath, guns at the ready by their sides as the soft footsteps drew closer and closer still, until in walked a woman who was the spitting image of Sherlock and was wearing only a blue satin bathrobe.

The woman was carrying a tea set on top of a silver tea tray, and glancing between the two men and their guns. Her eyes lingered on John for just a moment longer before she turned her attention on Sherlock. “Christ, Sherl, put that gun away. You know how I feel about them in my home,” she chided and crossed to place the set the tray down on coffee table, “But I’m glad that you and Mikey still worry about me. I was starting to feel unloved.” She stepped back and held out her arms to him. “Hug me, I haven’t seen you in an age. You two never come to visit me anymore.”

Sherlock huffed and tucked his gun away, making no indication to move from his spot and do as she requested. “Well, John. It seems like everything is fine here, so we can go,” he said, turning to leave.

“Sherlock Holmes, you come over here and give your little sister a hug, or I’ll invite mum and da down for a visit, and they can see for themselves how you’re getting on,” she threatened with a sweet smile.

Sherlock stared the woman down for about ten seconds before crossing to her and wrapping an arm around her. She didn’t accept the half hug and wrapped her arms tightly around the man’s thin frame. “Who else is here with you?” he asked in a whisper after taking deep inhale.

“When was the last time you showered?” she countered, “You smell of week old chemicals.”

John watched the scene before him with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I’m sorry. Did you say ‘sister’?” he asked, trying to recall if Sherlock had mentioned, or even hinted, that he had another sibling besides Mycroft.

The woman let go of Sherlock and frowned up at him. “Sherlock Holmes!” she exclaimed in disbelief, “Do you mean to tell me that you have been living with this man for a year and you didn’t tell him about me? You and Mycroft really are horrible.” She snapped her hand out and gave him a swift pinch on the ear before moving around him to greet John.

“I’m Sherlock’s younger sister, Cecelia, but you can call me Cece. You must be John Watson. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many good things. Sherlock talks about you all the time. I’m sorry that we haven’t had a chance to meet sooner, but had I known that my brothers had kept me a secret for this long, I would have rushed right over,” she introduced herself, taking John’s hand in hers to shake before pulling him into a hug, their height difference settling John’s head at chest height.

John was of course, speechless.

“Sissy,” Sherlock warned as he slipped out of his coat and took a seat on the end of the sofa. He figured that they were going to be there awhile. Once his sister had someone in her grasp, they weren’t escaping until she let them go.

Cece let out a sigh and placed a quick kiss on John’s cheek as she let him go. “What? I can’t say hello?” she asked innocently, moving to sit on the soft next to Sherlock. She patted the seat on her free side for John and began to pour the tea. “John, come sit and tell me a little about you. I only know what Sherl and Mikey have told me, but they tend to stretch the truth a little. They mentioned you were in the war?”

John didn’t know what had happened. All his brain could comprehend was that his head was being pressed against something soft and his nose was filled with the alluring scent of perfume. Then, suddenly it was gone and he was finding himself taking a seat next to Sherlock Holmes’ sister.

“What? Oh, yes. I, uh, I was in Afghanistan for three years, Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, as an Army Doctor. I was released for getting shot in the shoulder. Now, I help Sherlock solve cases and work at a clinic,” he explained, taking the cup of tea that was offered to him.

Cece handed Sherlock his cup without a second glance before shifting so her back was to him and she was fully facing John. She tucked her right leg underneath her left so she now lounged into the back of the sofa, and her robe inched precariously up her leg. “How so very brave of you. I would never have the courage to do something like that. I think I’m just too weak willed,” she said, taking a suggestive sip of her tea. When she didn’t get a response she smirked and moved a bit closer to John so their knees were touching. “I must say I can see why Sherl chose you. He never told me how attractive you were.” She grinned when a red flush rose up on John’s cheeks.

“Sissy,” Sherlock warned again, this time his tone firmer. He knew exactly where his sister was heading with her little act, and he wouldn’t let her trick John into becoming her newest play thing.

Cece made a noise of annoyance and just rolled her eyes. “Oh, just ignore him. Him and Mycroft both disapprove of my taste in men, saying that I could do better, or something like that,” she said and took another sip of her tea, “I can’t help it. The heart wants what the heart wants.”

Despite Sherlock’s efforts, he was too late. John was already entranced by her spell. “And what, does your heart, want?” he asked after swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

Cece smirked and started to draw little circles on John’s knee. “Let’s just put it this way. I like my men attractive and dumb.”

As if on cue, a door on the other side of the room opened, and a boxer clad Lestrade strolled out. “Cece, have you seen my…” he started to ask, but stopped when he spotted Sherlock and John, “Oh uh, hullo John…Sherlock…what are you two doing here?” He obviously was stunned to see the two of them there. He was hoping that no one would find out about his little last minute ‘holiday’.

Sherlock glared daggers at Greg and fought the urge to pull out his gun and shoot the detective for even laying a finger on his sister. He slowly stood from the sofa, setting the cup of tea down as he rose. “I think I should be asking you the same thing, Detective Inspector,” he spat out in disgust, “So, this is why you suddenly made use of a few of your holiday days. So you could spend a leisurely week here, getting what your wife isn’t giving you from my sister.” He made a move to lunge at Greg, but was stopped by Cece. She had jumped up from the couch and moved in front of him, stopping his advances with small hands on his chest.

“Sherl, don’t! Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything. It was all me,” she protested, having to take a few steps back to counteract her brother’s momentum. In doing this, she bumped into John, causing him to spill his tea into his lap. “Oh, John, I’m so sorry! Here, let me help,” she apologized. She turned her attention on John, taking the cup from him and handing him a few napkins. “Here, the washroom is just down the hall and to the left,” she instructed. Things were not going as she had planned at all.

Cece’s fussing over John had given Sherlock enough time to round the coffee table and deck Greg square in the jaw, knocking the Detective Inspector to the ground with a loud thud. “Don’t you touch my sister, again,” he growled out in deep baritone, holding his hand that now had a few busted knuckles.

“Greg!” Cece exclaimed as she rushed to his side, helping to sit up, "Greg, are you alright?" A nasty bruise was already forming on Greg's jaw and she touched in gingerly, receiving a sharp hiss from the DI. She glared up at her older brother with watery eyes.

Seeing this, Sherlock felt all his anger leave him as if he had . “Sissy…” he started to say, but was cut off by her holding up a hand to him. He watched as she helped Greg to his feet, sent him off to the kitchen to get some ice for his face, and started to clean up the dishes from tea. “Sissy,” he started again, after he was sure that Lestrade was out of earshot, “I’m sorry, but what were you thinking? Spending the week with Lestrade? You disappeared for a week. When I got here, I thought I was going to have to call him here. Are you an idiot?”

She huffed and shook her head at him. “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. Christ, Sherl. I know London is a big city, and that you and Mycroft a busy, but would it kill you two idiots to stop by for tea last week, or even _call_?”

What she said last caused Sherlock to frown? Why had she expected them to call her last week? It wasn’t any major holiday. “Why would we have called last week?” he asked.

Cece let out a small laugh in disbelief and shook her head. “For my birthday,” she said bitterly, “I knew you two forgot, so I got myself my own birthday present. A _whole_ week’s worth of presents.” She headed for the door to take the dishes back into the kitchen and to check on Greg. “But, I would gladly except my presents tomorrow since Greg has to go back to the Yard then,” she said with a smirk, hinting that she had forgiven them.

“Fine, and then you’ll be done with him, and we won’t have to worry about it,” Sherlock said, straightening out his suit jacket.

Cece smirked at Sherlock. “Not a chance, big brother. He’s the best lay I’ve ever had. I’ve even taken to calling him Lay-strade in my mind.” With that she exited with a wink, leaving her brother standing in the middle of the room with a horrified look on his face.


	2. Sissy Surprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cece finally gets her birthday surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2! Thanks to everyone for reading! Enjoy!
> 
> I own nothing but Cece.

**Sissy Surprised**

Two days after the incident in her home, Cece left her flat and was unsurprised to find a sleek black car waiting for her. “Well, it’s about bloody time you two,” she muttered to herself as she pulled out her mobile, just in time for a message to pop up.

**_Happy Belated Birthday, Sissy. Get in the car. –SH_ **

Cece shook her head and descended the few steps of the walk to the car. “Anthea, it better not be you in the back of that car,” she called out, opening the door to the backseat. She was surprised to find that there was actually no one inside. Instead of a person, as she had expected, there was a large wrapped box sitting on the far seat. She glanced around skeptically before getting in, the driver pulling away from the curb as soon as the door shut.

“Curiouser and curiouser," she muttered to herself as she pulled the box into her lap. Taking a moment to look it over carefully to make sure nothing was going to jump out at or explode all over her, she gave the box a few small shakes, and deduced that the contents were not going to harm her when she opened the box. She had also deduced that the gift had come from Sherlock based on the bow that sat on top. Her brothers never bothered with frivolous things such as ribbon or bows, so the fact that there was one made it undoubtedly John’s idea. Even though the idea for the bow might have come from John, the present screamed Sherlock; the paper a Victorian pattern and the bow was fashioned from black silk.

Cece smiled softly as she carefully pulled the ribbon off the box and tied it into a neat bow around her bun. She then proceeded to open the box, setting the lid on the seat next to her. Peering inside, the box seemed to be filled with a black fabric and there was a note sitting on top addressed to her. She opened the white cardstock and read it silently, recognizing the writing as Sherlock's, only confirming her deductions.

 

_Sincere apologize for missing your birthday._

_Please accept these gifts on our behalf._

_~Sherl_

 

Cece set the note in the lid before pulling a thick wool coat out of box. It was a replica of Sherlock's Belstaff, except it was shorter and tailored to flare out to appear more feminine. It was beautiful and she loved it. With a little effort and a lot of wiggling, she managed to change out of her own coat and into the new one. It fit her perfectly. She stuck her hands in the pockets to see how deep they were and frowned when her left hand touched something cold. Pulling her hand out, she found that it was a small key ring with four keys on it. Upon closer inspection, she found they were house keys. “Do not tell me they bought me a house,” she mumbled and stuck the keys back into her pocket.

She folded her old coat and was going to place it in box when she noticed something else in the bottom. Digging though the tissue paper, she pulled out a hat, causing her to laugh out loud. It was a deerstalker that also resembled the one that she had seen her older brother wearing when his face was plastered all over the papers. She remembered the slew of verbal abuse that she had to sit through  when he found out that she had sent a clipping to her parents. “Oh Sherlock,” she spoke softly, shaking her head with a smile, and carefully pulling the hat onto her head, glad that she had decided to put her hair up in a bun.

Having been so engrossed in her gifts, Cece barely noticed that the car had stopped and the driver had gotten out. She had a near heart attack when he tapped on the window and opened the door for her. Flustered, she quickly placed her belongings into the box before getting out and looking around. She was standing outside of Speedy’s Cafe, just across the street from her brother's flat. “Really, Sherlock, you brought me here of all places? You couldn’t have taken me out for dinner?” she mumbled to herself, looking up at the window she knew belonged to his flat. There was a large number of news reporters surrounding the door to 221, all waiting to get a word with the famous consulting detective. “How am I even supposed to get inside? Ring the bell and hope that someone answers before I get trampled?” 

Huffing, she slipped her hand into the coat pocket to fish out her mobile and her fingers once again found the key ring. A light clicked on in her brain and she pulled the keys from her pocket to examine then closer. Surely, Sherlock hadn’t given her a copy of the keys to his flat. He had flat out refused the first time she asked, so she never brought the subject up again. Upon closer examination, she found that one had the numbers ‘221’ etched into its rounded section. She glanced up at the door across the street and chewed on her lip. 

Deciding that it was worth a shot, she turned up her coat collar, slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses, and tucked down the deerstalker to mask her from being identified. Her brothers had worked hard to keep her out of the media, and she wasn't about to blow her cover now. With present under one arm and key in the other hand, she quickly crossed the street, dodging a few cars, and feeling like she was walking into a trap.

As soon as she set foot on the sidewalk, she had been spotted. The reporters mobbed her, shoving voice recorders and booms into her face, asking her if she was a client of Sherlock’s, if she was coming to seek out his help, and what was inside the box. Flashbulbs went off in her face, momentarily blinding her and causing her to pause in her advancement toward the door. “Please, let me by,” she repeated as she tried to fight her way toward the door. Not used to so much attention, Cece felt overly overwhelmed by everything that she was starting to feel as if she might faint.

Then, as if her prayers had been answered, the glorious sound of a police whistle rang out over the crowd. Greg was stepping out of 221B in his full uniform, hat and all, and started shooing the press away with threats of fines and arrests. As the crowd of reporters scurried away, taking a couple more shots of Cece as they went, the DI came down the steps to stand in front of Cece.

“My hero,” she said with a smirk and leaned in to kiss him, but was denied the pleasure when Greg turned to head back inside, taking the large box from her hands. "Hey!" she protested with a pout and followed after him inside, unable the see the large grin that adorned his face.

“What are you doing here anyway, Greg? This isn’t about the other day when Sherl hit you is it? I did make him apologize,” she inquired as she continued to follow him up the stairs to Sherlock’s flat. It wasn't that she didn’t enjoy the quality time that they spent together, she enjoyed that very much, but if he and Sherlock where working on a case when she was supposed to come up for a cup of tea for her birthday, she was going to be rather cross. “I thought Sherlock was free this afternoon. Did a case come up?”

“You could call it that,” Greg answered as he opened the door to Sherlock’s flat for her.

That was just the icing on the cake for Cece, an imaginary one as she didn't get that either. She couldn’t believe the nerve of her brothers. They knew how important birthdays were to her. To her, it wasn't about getting and giving presents, it was about spending time with each other. Sherlock and Mycroft were so busy with their successful lives that they rarely spent any time together in person. Sure, they exchanged the occasional phone call or email conversation, but that wasn't anything like being in each other's company.

Cece walked through the door, ready to lay into her older brother, but was stopped dead in her tracks when she was greeted with a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday!’. Standing in living room smiling at her were Sherlock, Mycroft, and all of the people she knew to be Sherlock’s friends. The people she knew so much about, but knew nothing about her due to Sherlock and Mycroft’s incessant need to keep her a secret.

Cece slipped her sunglasses off and sniffled slightly. The coat and the hat were trivial gift compared to this. Her real present was that her brothers had come to their senses and decided that they couldn’t keep her a secret forever. Her relations with Greg probably had some influence in the decision. “Thank you!” she exclaimed with a small laugh, crossed to give her brothers a hug, and grinning at their strained grimaces in response to the public affection.

The rest of the party went off swimmingly. She got to know Molly and Mrs. Hudson. She even continued her flirtations with John, not able to resist making the military man blush several shades of red. She was on the cusp of cracking him when she was possessively whisked away by Greg upon his discovery of what she was up to. He then whisked her right on out into the hall for a quick snog session before leaving, claiming he was due at work.

When the party was over, she left 221B Baker Street feeling happy, and very proud of her brothers for putting up with the ‘trivialness’ of a birthday party just for her. She was going to savor this feeling for as long as she could because she doubted it was going to happened again anytime soon.

Cece stepped to the curb to wait for a taxi when a black car pulled up. Another car sent by Mycroft no doubt. She opened the back door and was again surprised by what she found. What, or rather who, was waiting for her was her last present for the day.

Lounged in the backset of the car smirking at her was her current favorite plaything, Greg Lestrade. He was still dressed in his work clothes and twirling a pair of handcuffs. “Ms. Holmes, I’m Detective Inspector _Lay-strade_ , and I’m going to have to take you down town. It’s seems like you’ve been a very, _very_ naughty girl,” she spoke in a deep seductive voice that was heavy with his accent.

She didn’t think that she could have gotten into that car any faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Numba two! Let me know if there's something you'd like to see! Number 3 coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to make a series out of Cece' story. Let me know if you have an requests or ideas for future installments.


End file.
